


Comfort

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Heavy Petting, Kissing, fade to black oral sex (Javi receiving), mustache boyfriends, mustache boyfriends RIDE AGAIN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28260489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: A festive fic for our mustache boyfriends.
Relationships: Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ithinkwehitametaphor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkwehitametaphor/gifts).



“Like it or not, Javi, Christmas is the only game in town right now.”

Javier muttered something that he hoped would pass for an actual response and chewed on his cigarette, pouring himself another cup of the poor DEA coffee. For Colombia, they could definitely do better - but it was caffeinated, and nothing else really mattered.

“Anyway,” Steve continued, “Least  _ you’ll _ get to kiss someone under the mistletoe.”

Would he? Javier wondered.

“Oh yeah?” he settled for saying, noncommittally, as they walked companionably back to their metal desks.

“Don’t gimme that shit, Javi. You’ve had half the women in this building.”

Okay, so  _ maybe _ that was true, but Javier never spoke about the women he slept with. What transpired was between his body and theirs, not to be shared with others. But he wasn’t unaware of his reputation.

He grunted a reply, sipping coffee. 

“Spare a thought for me, would ya?” Steve continued, unbothered by a lack of coherent reply by Javier. “Alone in that government-issue shoebox, missing my wife and my kid. Alone on Christmas. What a loser.”

Javier’s head jerked up at that. He’d seen Steve hit rock bottom and it wasn’t pretty - he’d been gut-churningly worried for his friend, bone-deep scared.

“You’re not a loser, man.”

Steve glanced up, rolled his eyes. “You act that well for all your informants, too?”

“Enough.” Javi pushed his cup aside. “Spoiling for a fight, Murphy?”

Eyes darkening, Steve looked away. “Fuck off.”

“You should go home. Get some sleep.”

“I don’t  _ want _ to go home!” Steve snarled, then crumpled, his shoulders sagging. “Shit, Javi, I’m sorry.”

Javier rubbed a hand over his face, the bristles of his mustache catching on his skin as he did so. He really hated pulling rank on colleagues, but in this case, maybe it was needed. “Look. You don’t wanna miss the party later, right? Get some sleep. Put on a disgustingly festive shirt. I know you have one.”

That elicited a little smile from Steve. “Might have.”

“Go.” Javier jerked his head towards the door. He offered his cup. “And pour this shitty coffee down the drain on your way past the trash can.”

Steve grabbed his leather jacket from the back of his chair. “Thanks, man. I know - this isn’t the way I want it to be.” He looked down at Javier with those blue eyes that always revealed too much emotion. “I’m a damn good agent, Javi.”

“I know you are.” Javier held his gaze for a moment, then went back to his paperwork. “I’ll cover for you with Messina, but it’s Christmas Eve. You gotta be back for the party - her speech, all that jazz.”

“Promise,” Steve smiled, shrugging his jacket on.

Javier watched him walk away, up the steps towards the exit, heard the door swing shut, and turned back to his typewriter with a sigh. 

He lit another cigarette and got back to it.

*****

Hours later, another cigarette between his teeth, Javier leaned back against his desk, marvelling at how his colleagues - mostly the women - had transformed the drab Colombian DEA headquarters into something resembling the Christmas festoonery in US department stores. A giant plastic tree had been erected by the coat stand, draped in more tinsel than a lounge singer’s dress. 

They’d be picking that off the floor for  _ weeks. _

Messina made small talk with Carillo by the coffee machine - both looking like they hoped for a murder to interrupt them soon. Trisha from accounts had Carl from Payroll pressed up against the photocopier. All the Christmas party boxes were ticked.

Except Murphy.

Where the  _ hell _ was he?

“Hey, Javi.” Corrine, one of the attache secretaries, nodded upwards. “Look.”

Javier obeyed to see a horrendously plastic sprig of “mistletoe” hung over his head. It looked about twenty years old and ought to be put out of its misery.

He glanced down at Corrine. Her eyes were wide and innocent. Expectant.

He opened his mouth to say something-

She honest-to-God  _ cackled. _

“Oh, Javi. You should see your face.” She leant up on her toes to buss his cheek. “Oh, that’ll make me laugh for days.”

“Happy to help,” Javier muttered dryly, but he chuckled all the same.

Corrine moved off to chat to one of the other attache secretaries, and then Steve walked in.

He looked - better.

He’d shaved the permanent five o’clock shadow he seemed to grow after Connie and Olivia left. He wore a fresh shirt - just a navy polo, but it looked pressed and clean - and dark jeans. His gaze scanned the crowd, caught on Javi.

Their eyes met and held, and something crackled in the air. Javier felt it,  _ felt it. _

Ignored it; pushed it away.

Steve made his way over. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.” Javier did what he usually did when he didn’t know what to say; he offered Steve a smoke. His fellow agent took it.

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Nearly didn’t. Had to make sure you didn’t get mauled by the secretaries.”

Javier snorted. It was an excuse and they both knew it, but Javier didn’t call Steve on it. He just felt glad the other man had come. He couldn’t say why and he didn’t want to examine it too closely.

One of the admins did the rounds with glasses of punch balanced on an empty in-tray. Steve took two; handed one off to Javi. “Punch?”

Javier sniffed it.

Steve barked out a laugh. “Not like you to refuse alcohol, Pena. Come on. Sunshine! It’s Christmas!”

“The only game in town?” Javier asked wryly, repeating Steve’s earlier words.

Steve clinked his glass against Javi’s. “Connie’s right, you know. She always is. I gotta give this my all. See it through. Be a good partner to you. Give you my best.”

Javier looked into Steve’s blue eyes and his mouth went dry, so he pulled the cigarette out and took a gulp of the punch.  _ Fuck, _ it was strong. Strawberry-flavoured lighter fluid. He coughed; drank more. 

_ Merry fucking Christmas. _

“I think about going back sometimes. You know? Do you think Connie would have me?”

“Jesus. Of course she would.”

Steve nodded slowly. “You’re right. We’re good together. Never found anyone I gelled with like her.” He met Javier’s gaze. “‘Cept you, of course.”

The eye contact burned a flare of awareness up Javier’s spine.

Steve broke the contact and threw back a swig of punch. “Listen. I’m not gonna stay long. I had a drink before I arrived.”

Javi snorted. “Figured you were a few sheets to the wind.”

“Had to be.” Steve clapped him on the back. “Dunno how you show up stag all the time. You never get lonely, Javi?”

Steve drawled his name, like  _ Jaahhvi, _ and the sound of it made Javi’s mouth dry. 

“Sometimes,” he muttered into his glass.

“Back in my US Army days, guys sometimes…. Found comfort in each other. You know? You ever go down that road?”

Javier couldn’t look at Steve. Not when desire was coiling tight at the base of his spine. When he was tangibly close to getting a hard-on.  _ At work. _ “Once or twice,” he murmured. Then, “You?”

“Nah. Thought about it, though.”

One of the admins was making a beeline towards them. Javi glanced at her, then met Steve’s gaze, the icy blue somehow desert-humid.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Steve tossed back the punch. “Hell, yeah.”

********

Somehow, Steve had snuck a half-empty bottle of El Jimador tequila out from the party.

They took turns drinking from it as they walked back to the identikit apartments - Steve’s more personalised than Javi’s, although Javier imagined Steve would have preferred plain magnolia right now over reminders of Connie and her big heart and artistic flair.

“Your turn.” Steve offered the bottle.

Javi took it; drank. Tried not to think about his lips where Steve’s had been seconds before. The bottle mouth was warm.

They reached the apartment steps.

“You wanna come in for a drink?” Steve asked.

Javier eyed him. The bottle dangled from Javi’s fingers; almost empty. He swung it lightly. “I think we’re all out.”

“I’ve got more.”

“Okay,” Javi heard himself say.

The sound of the key turning in the Yale lock was loud to Javi’s ears. Every nerve felt on end as he stood behind Steve for seconds that stretched.

He leaned back against the door, the tequila bottle heavy in his hand as Steve crossed lazily to the little sideboard to take out two fat-bottomed whiskey glasses.

“Want?”

“Yeah.”

Javi walked over; set the tequila down on the table he’d helped Steve sand one weekend.

Steve passed him the glass. Their fingers brushed. Their eyes met.

Javier kept replaying Steve’s earlier words in his head. 

_ Thought about it, though. _

They both tossed the whiskey back. Steve winced; Javier didn’t, but he felt the burn all the same - he’d just learned to hide it better.

Steve held eye contact with Javi as he deliberately placed the empty tumbler back on the table. The clunk echoed.

“Careful with that,” Javier muttered.

“I will be.”

And he framed Javi’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Javi held stock still for a second. 

_ Fuck. Is this happening? _

Steve tasted of the party punch, a lick of whiskey, and the faint tang of cigarette smoke. Javier heard a needy little moan and realised belatedly that it had come from his own lips. 

Then Steve tentatively touched his tongue to Javi’s and they were both lost. A dam broke inside Javi - one he’d been holding shut for too long.

His glass tumbled to the floor, bounced on the rug. Javi shoved his hands into Steve’s pile of flaxen hair, stroking the soft strands as he tugged his partner close. His hips hit Steve’s and  _ oh, fuck me, _ Javier thought.

“We’ll get to that,” Steve muttered.

“I said that out loud?”

“Sure did.”

They rubbed up against each other for moments that stretched, belt buckles clanging as they dry-humped against the door. Their gasping breaths filled the apartment, punctuated by soft expletives and  _ just like thats _ and  _ oh, fucks _ .

“Bed,” Javi muttered against Steve’s lips.

“It’s cute that you think you’re in charge, Peña.” And then Steve unbuckled Javi’s belt, popping the denim buttons of his fly, and knelt in front of him.

Javier gazed down at Steve’s tumble of blond hair, his own head swimming with alcohol and need and want.

“You always commando?” Steve asked, voice raspy.

“Uh-”

And then Murphy put that smart mouth on his dick and Javier lost the ability to have coherent thought.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
